


The Best Man

by darlingsherlock (eppiemusings)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, POV John Watson, Post Mary, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:26:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6568108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eppiemusings/pseuds/darlingsherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Our moment has neither rushed nor dragged</i>, John thought, <i>it has come and synced in right when it was time.<i></i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Man

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. This is my first time writing fanfic, so I'm excited and terrified sharing this. 
> 
> I'm non-native English speaker, and this fic has not been Brit-picked. All grammatical and factual mistakes are my own.  
> If anyone wants the mistakes corrected, please point them out for me, I'll fix them.
> 
> I don't own the characters, they belong to the creators, the show, and BBC.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this fic.

John made his way to the reception tent on the other side of the ground. Hands in pocket, he dragged his tired legs across the lawn while watching the numerous lights flickering inside the tent. In the distance he could hear other guests’ voices, taking leave for the night. Few were lounging leisurely on the lawn, a couple outside the tent were conversing at a candle lit table with the candle light illuminating their faces intimately, but for most part the tent appeared to be vacant. He had detached himself from a small number of people, excitedly chattering about the married couple, wanting some alone time. Sherlock would be left alone to see off others, but then for today it was his prime duty, attending to the guests and the place. He was, after all, the Best Man.

As he approached the tent he was, again, struck by its elegant beauty. 

It had given Sherlock a headache as he had turned and turned the catalogue pages to select the ceiling for the tent,

“Lights hanging from the ceiling, or fabric manipulation to create soft designs, or flowers? Which one, John?”, “You are being unhelpful, don’t bother me”, “You are supposed to help, you said you will!”, “You don’t even know what looks decent!”

Now the ceiling of the tent was decorated with a huge arrangement of wisteria flowers with hints of greenery. It gave the impression the flowers were magically springing from the ceiling, and created a magical ceiling over the square dance floor, which was surrounded by the dining tables. The entire tent including the ceiling was draped with chiffon.

It had confused him whether to leave the side drapes closed on the tent keeping the space closed giving it an intimate feel or have them tied to the support posts leaving an unobstructed view of the outside lighted garden. Later, it was decided to keep them tied to the posts and untie them to close the tent if the night turned chilly. Also to make use of the heater the decorators provided in package, if needed. But the night had remained warm.

The table center piece had nearly driven him off the bend! The decorators had looked as exasperated with him for his blunt reactions as he was with them for their abominable wedding table decoration ideas...

Fruits and vegetable? “What will people do with that? Eat them?”

Teacups? “For God’s sake! Centrepiece out of teacups? How economical!” 

Tins with flowers? “Sorry, I take back the last comment, this is way economical. Tins, John! Did you hear that?”

Herbs? “What sort? Poisonous ones? Medicinal? Will they be needed?”

Harvest theme with wheat tied together and – “Please don’t...”

Finally, after hours spent consulting back and forth with Molly, he had zeroed in on a small bouquet of white blush and soft pink rose at the center surrounded by cylindrical glasses with floating candles placed inside.

John smiled at the memory when Sherlock had looked at the finalised sample table the decorator had put together for their approval, and broken into a relieved and pleased smile. He had looked beautiful.

Sherlock had decided to decorate the tree branches around the ground with candle holder glass orbs hanging from the branches. They were brought in numbers, some orbs had peonies with candles and some had candles with rose petals in the bottom, and were suspended from every branch in the trees surrounding the garden. The soft flickering candle lights from the trees gave the whole view at night a magical feel, making it look like a scene straight out of a fairy tale!

It was beautiful. Every detail in the decoration had been planned and worked on by Sherlock. He had fretted, cursed, sulked, seethed at every step of the planning but at the end the result before everyone was a masterpiece. It had beauty. It had soul. It had Sherlock’s care.

John huffed at his own thoughts, he was being soppy, and maybe Sherlock was right in chastising him for his romanticised passages in blog entries. Nevertheless, he had no idea how else to describe this whole day. Everything around him screamed how attentive and dedicated Sherlock had been to this day. When complimented on it, Sherlock had brushed if off as his duty, and nothing to be gushed about. But John knew, Sherlock had ventured to show his gratitude and respect through his actions. He was far more eloquent when left to demonstrate than made to speak about it.

John walked inside the tent and looked around. The dinner sets had been cleared off but the center piece candles were left and were glowing softly, and the small lights from ceiling were on. The bright chandelier lights in tent were switched off which left only the candles on table, the orb lanterns hanging from the ceiling and the lights from the trees outside to glow in the night. It looked peaceful, and felt too.

He sat on one of the chairs resting his head on his fist, a fond smile playing on his lips. The whole day had turned out excellently, bearing fruit for the efforts Sherlock had put in for his duties as the best man. John still remembers the day Sherlock had been asked and he had dropped his guard to look stunned.

It was a Sunday, Lestrade had come over for the evening tea and the three sat together in front of the fireplace sipping tea and each lost in their thoughts. 

“Well, it’s sure nice to have a peaceful evening after the rush of a week,” Lestrade had said breaking the silence.

“Hateful,” Sherlock had scoffed.

They both had smiled at Sherlock who simply rolled his eyes.

“Actually, I did have a reason to drop in here today,” Lestrade had started hesitantly, looking at Sherlock and then at John. Then he seemed to decide on something, placed his teacup aside and stood up, looked down at Sherlock and said, “Sherlock, I intend to do this properly, will you please stand and come over near the table?”

Sherlock had looked slightly apprehensive, “Do what properly?” he asked his brows coming together. But he stood all the same. He was much changed from the man who used to refuse doing things just to get on people’s nerves, of course he was still stubborn and sulked at times, but he had become good at reading people’s sincere concerns and reacting accordingly, right then Lestrade had looked earnest in his request.

Lestrade had moved to the study table, and Sherlock went over to stand in front of him facing the fireplace and looking confused shooting quick glances towards John, who could only return the confused look.

“So...” Lestrade said, “We all know that Molly and I are getting married and the date has been fixed, and we wish to have a traditional wedding at a church,” at this Lestrade nodded looking both at Sherlock and turning to John, who nodded in turn, and turned back to continue, “This will be an important day in our lives, we both agree that it is only fair that the person we both dearly care about have an important part in the day.”

At this point, John had known what was about to come next. Sherlock looked unsure but clearly the wheels were turning in his head. John had silently taken out his phone, and opened the camera app, he did not wish to miss this moment, not after everything everyone had been through. He kept his phone ready.

Looking Sherlock squarely in the eye, Lestrade said, “Sherlock, you are the best man I’ve had the privilege to work with and know in person, while I don’t lack a proper circle of friends I know that I will be an idiot to choose anyone else when you are clearly the one friend I care the most about.” He hesitated a moment and continued carefully, “So, Sherlock, will you be my best man on my wedding day?” he finished looking sincere and open in his request.

John, not trusting his hands to steadily video the moment, had clicked on burst mode to capture every moment in their frozen state, because that was it had looked like. Sherlock had looked bright eyed, clearly he had never expected Lestrade to hold him in such high regard, but he quickly recovered to look down at his feet and look up at Lestrade through his lashes as if checking to see if he was about to laugh at him saying it was a joke. Reassured, he had brought his hands, which were hanging limply at his sides, together in front him and cleared his throat.

John was silently capturing all of this because he could not take his eyes off of Sherlock. The evening light coming through the window caught Sherlock just in the right way and he had looked infinitely young in his unsure and vulnerable state, his eyes shining slightly, he had smiled at Lestrade.

“Yes, I will be your best man,” he had smiled and nodded. Lestrade had huffed out a laugh. In that moment, they both were two men who’d respect and adoration for each others beings, something not always played out, like so many other things brushed under the rug.

Sherlock had turned to John, “You’ll help, of course?” he had asked unsure but managing a small smile.

“Yes, of course, I will,” John had replied looking up at both men. Then Sherlock had noticed the camera in his hand and—

John huffed out a small laugh at the memory of Sherlock asking with all dignity held together for John to delete those pictures but being turned down, and Lestrade hurriedly thrusting the ring box in Sherlock’s hands before he could change his mind.

From that day leading onto this day, it was one Sherlockian ride all the way. If John were to be completely honest this duty of making arrangements and decisions had, almost, brought back the old Sherlock....

Sherlock blackmailing John to join him for cake tasting with Molly and Lestrade else he’ll hide John’s jumpers. Sherlock making faces at the cake designs and finally declaring Molly loves flowers, laces, and ribbons, so the cake shall have those! But elegantly, of course.

Finally, they had decided on a Vanilla cake with Italian butter cream and Raspberry filling. Lace looking intricate work adorned one side of the three tier cake, with real blush roses tucked neatly at side, and ribbon textured fondant circled the bottom of each tiers to finish off the look.

Sherlock dragging John to Lestrade’s suit fitting.

Sherlock thoroughly interviewing the to-be-hired photographer for his portfolio, his background, his experience with handling being dumped, revenge, murderous jealously— John had to intervene at this point for the photographer looked like he was ready to bolt.

Sherlock railing at Molly and Lestrade for needing his help to finalise the menu and calling them imbeciles for not knowing what they want. When they’d tried to decide, he’d declared them to be tasteless tarts and snatched the catalogue off their hands, and walked away.

Sherlock insulting every song chosen for the playlist. Molly looking more confused than ever, Lestrade not caring what was played either way, and John being insulted for his mediocre taste in everything! How exactly was he supposed to even react to that?!

Sherlock being appalled at Molly and Lestrade’s dancing skills (because apparently everyone learned Waltz in their youth, of course). He’d enrolled them into a crash course of least possible period and warned them if they missed a single beat on the day, he would personally see to it they were divorced as soon as possible because a couple who could not hold a beat together in a waltz were clearly not meant to be together at all! His exact words.

As the Big day had drawn nearer there was the Best Man’s speech Sherlock had to prepare. He had pretended that if he did a good job then Lestrade will never stop himself from calling Sherlock for cases, as if he ever had. But John knew better.

“They deserve this, John.” Sherlock said his words slurring slightly. He wasn’t completely drunk but enough to bring his thoughts out.

John had taken care not to drink more than Sherlock, so he was in control of his thoughts, watched him carefully. Sherlock looked relaxed, his eyes soft but distant as if he was watching some film clip, a slight smile of his lips while his fingers hovered over the keyboard.

“They’ve earned it, both of them,” Sherlock said slowly choosing his words but solemnly, “After being lied to, cheated on, disappointed, they deserve to be happy.”

And that is all he’d said on the matter before returning to typing intently on his word processor. John, however, had spent the night silently watching Sherlock type, just that. Something in him had told him to take in what was happening before him, it was important.

Of course, Sherlock had been appalled in the morning at half of the things he’d typed into the speech, though later he kept some of it because they sounded genuine.

This morning was a blur in John’s vision now as he sat recalling the events. Well, a blur where Sherlock was the clear bright foreground and everything else was in blur background. Because John had wanted to see nothing but Sherlock. As John had walked Molly down the aisle to give her away, he had looked at Sherlock who was staring back at him, and they’d both shared a smile. Sherlock was beautiful.

As he had watched Sherlock standing to give the wedding ring to Lestrade, he could not help remembering his own wedding. He could not help thinking that Sherlock must’ve stood just like this, anxious to do a good job of his given role, he could not help thinking if Sherlock had put so much effort into Lestrade’s wedding then just how much he must’ve stressed himself for his best friend John’s wedding? How much he had wanted everything to be perfect for John’s special day? He must’ve not slept at all going by how he had fretted over reception seating for this wedding.

When Sherlock sat next to John, as Molly and Lestrade held hands, John saw him smiling with a pleased look at the couple, and John had wondered if he had smiled like this when John had held Mary’s hand? Had he smiled knowing the man he loved the most was marrying someone else, chosen someone else, made vows of eternity to someone else...knowing he could’ve, should’ve, must’ve been the one holding that man’s hand? Of course, he had smiled, and made a vow to keep them safe, believing John’s world of happiness was someone else, and not him.

Sherlock had held John’s gaze as Molly and Lestrade cut their wedding cake under the huge flower arrangement. John had been staring at Sherlock, who was standing across him in the small circle formed around the couple. As the knife sliced through the cake, Sherlock seemed to sense eyes on him and looked up unerringly to lock eyes with John. They both smiled, and John had felt like they were the only two people in the room. Then Sherlock ducked his head down, and John wanted to kiss his forehead.

Throughout the day, John had watched Sherlock flit about checking, scrutinizing, overlooking things to be done, cross checking seating placements before the reception, he was so focused on everything he did. Anything he took up as his duty, just like his cases, his life duties towards people he cared for, he did it with singular focus, no matter if he really wanted to but if that made people happy then he was up for it, he was hands down the most generous person John knew. John also knew that he himself has been the recipient of most of the generosity.

John now knew something he had not back then, he now saw what he’d not back then, and most importantly he now saw what he had clearly seen back then but had not observed, blindly.

Sherlock’s love for John.

It was in everything Sherlock had done, and only a fool could’ve seen it and not known. A fool that had been John.

John understood that he had been a coward to not have acknowledged his feelings, to not embrace what he had felt. He had denied himself his wishes, and been scared that they would ruin what he had with Sherlock. And in the process he had overlooked everything Sherlock had wanted, and hoped, and had possibly tried to show it all through his actions. He had hurt Sherlock. And nothing could break John’s heart more than that.

Sherlock had always deserved so much more, so much better.

"Ah, John, you are here."

John looked up, forced out of his reverie, towards the source of voice. Sherlock stood at one opening of the tent. He smiled lightly and took couple of slow steps, eyes roaming over the floor, as if searching for something. John watched him from where he sat.

"Is there something you needed me for, Sherlock?" John said placing his palm on the tabletop, making to stand.

"What? Oh, no no. Sit down," Sherlock said waving his hand hastily, "It's nothing. I was coming over here, anyway, I just wondered where you'd disappeared after their departure. Saw you here now, that's all." He stepped further inside tent, and then turned a slow circle on the spot with eyes still searching for something on floor.

John sat on the edge of his seat, his hands still poised on the table and back of the chair. "Are you looking for something, then, Sherlock?"

Sherlock hummed absently. He went to the nearest table and bent slightly, not entirely crouching, and lifted the tablecloth to look under it.

"Can I help? It'll be quicker," John said.

Sherlock straightened and smiled, "Yes, it is my pocket watch. It must've slipped out of the waistcoat fastening and fell, and someone must've kicked it accidently while dancing." He sighed.

"Ah."

John continued to sit, and watch. Sherlock went to the farthest end of the tent and started looking from one table to another. It was a comfortable silence between them, something that had lately come to them in slow increments, something once they used to have in abundance before the fall but had lost it, just like they'd lost each other. Now, months after Mary's departure from their lives, it was settling between them again.

John loved this. This peace and quiet. This connection rebuilding between them. A connection they both felt, and acknowledged, from time to time in silent eye contacts, light brush of fingers on shoulder, subtle nods. Oh, and the smiles. John loved all of this.

They both were taking things slowly. Not that they'd agreed on anything but inherently, John believed, they both knew this time anything between them was important. Even evenings spent with each other in silence were important. This was important. This was a delicate blossom.

Sherlock was now drawing closer to John's table. John stood and walked in measured steps to stand at the center of the dance floor. He clasped his hands behind his back.

"Was it important, Sherlock?" John said quietly.

"You not trying to help me, right now, is important," Sherlock said huffing, but his lips twitched at the ends. He came to the table John had been occupying, and dropped on one knee to look under it. “It is a pass me down, John, of course it is important, and not to mention made of gold.” Sherlock lifted his head at the last word to arch an eyebrow but stopped almost immediately.

John smiled, holding the delicate gold chain between his fingers as the watch oscillated lightly at the end.

Sherlock stared for a moment at John's left hand where the pocket watch dangled, and stood up. His expression was mild with amusement as he raised his eyes to lock with John's.

"You had it with you all this time and you made me go around the place, John, playing games don’t suit you." His lips twitched as he suppressed his smile and lifted his head slightly to look imposing.

"Game? I wasn't playing any game, I was just seeing how long it will take you before you deduced the obvious," John said drew out the last word as he gave the chain a light swing. He continued to smile at Sherlock with a playful feeling in the center of his chest. He wanted it to last for a bit longer.

Sherlock pursed his lips and drew in a short breath, "I've had a long day, John, as you've witnessed the whole day, I do get tired and slow. I'm only human." Sherlock put his hands behind his back and straightened a bit more.

"Hmm, it's the only reason I'll let you have it the easy way," John said shooting a glance at the watch and holding it out in front of him, and nodded.

Sherlock stood a moment taking in John as if he expected John to turn on his heels and bolt out of the tent. And then he stepped forward cautiously, his eyes trained on John. John stood his ground with the watch held slightly in front. Sherlock came to stand in front of him, the watch between them. He brought his right palm below the dangling watch, his eyes darting between Johns’s.

John looked at the upturned palm, and glanced back at the curious eyes staring back at him. The corner of his mouth twitched up involuntarily.

"Oh, not so easily, either," John said in a whisper. Sherlock’s breathe hitched. He felt the air shift between them. It wasn't playful anymore, it had charge now. John watched steadily as Sherlock, who he had expected to roll his eyes, simply continued to stare back his eyes betraying him. John could see the anticipation, the nervous stir in the depth, for all the unblinking stare he was receiving.

John drew his hand to his side, watch at shoulder level, and Sherlock's palm followed the path right below it, forcing him to step a little closer. For a beat they stood watching each other's face, and then John stretched his hand out, now holding the watch at arm's length to his side.

"You'll have to come closer," John said, his voice barely above a whisper, it sounded like a secret. John watched Sherlock's face closely for any change in his demeanour. For any indication that he did not want to. For anything that would tell him to stop.

Sherlock's eyes now held an emotion which John could read without a doubt. Unbelieving.

Sherlock stepped closer in a measured manner, his hand stretching out to where John's held the watch. He made no move to simply grab the dangling round object and pull it out of John's grip.

"Closer, Sherlock."

He drew his hand back an inch out of reach.

Sherlock stepped in as if in trance now. Their faces were now an inch apart. Both their eyes roaming over the other's.

"Now?" Sherlock breathed. His eyes wide with hope, fear, and disbelief.

John drew the chain in, bringing the watch inside his hold, and then upturned his palm in offering.

"It is yours, Sherlock, take it anytime you like."

John watched Sherlock bite the inside of his mouth’s corner. He waited. Sherlock dropped his eyes for a second before looking up and then closed his hand over the watch, covering John’s entire hand, and held it there.

“What if I just wish for it to be safe? It has been through rough times, after all,” Sherlock said in a quiet voice but it held weight of all his fears, “I lost it without knowing, I thought I had it, but I’ve been careless, haven’t I, John?” Sherlock swallowed.

“Good that I found it, then. Can I be its safe keeper, Sherlock? Will you let me? Can I ask you to trust me with it?” John said gripping back Sherlock hand and brought their hands, with the watch trapped, to their side.

“You had it with you all this time without my knowledge, and you kept it safe,” Sherlock drew in a shaky breath squeezing John’s hand in turn, “Of course, John, I trust you with it.”

John brought his other hand to place it lightly on Sherlock’s waist, “Then I wish to cherish it, Sherlock, however long I’m allowed to.” John said his voice unwavering, he wanted Sherlock to know he meant every word he said, he wanted Sherlock to hear it in his voice and know it to be true in his heart.

Sherlock smiled. At first, hesitantly, and then it grew to light his beautiful face. As he did so, he placed his other hand on John’s elbow. John himself was smiling, feeling lighter and happier than he’d felt in a long time. They stood like that, just smiling and looking in each other’s eyes.

Sherlock leaned forward to rest his forehead against John’s. He drew in a long breath. John moved his hand on the waist to the small of the back, encircling Sherlock in a loose hold, and brought their bodies to press lightly. Sherlock held John’s shoulder in return. John enclosed his left hand around Sherlock’s hand and brought it to his chest, and held it there.

Breeze fluttered the drapes in the background, John watched Sherlock’s peaceful face, and he felt at peace himself. The lights in the trees outside, and the soft glow of candles on tables inside the tent, rendered the whole moment a dreamy haze as if he was looking from the outside but at the same time walking through it.

They stood in silence. Then, John nudged his nose along the side of Sherlock's, and moved them together in a sway and paused. Sherlock smiled against his cheek.

"There is no music," Sherlock said in a whisper, and then made the next leisured sway, "What are we doing, John?"

"Dancing," John said not breaking rhythm and turning them in a slow circle, keeping his eyes locked with Sherlock's, "I think we are good at it, don't you?"

Sherlock made a noncommittal noise, but his eyes were shining with suppressed emotions. They continued to make a slow circle where they stood with the light breeze wrapping around them. Sherlock dropped his head on John's shoulder, and John tightened his arm around him while stirring them.

"You did so well today," John said against Sherlock's ear. Sherlock turned his face to press it against the side of John's neck, John felt him move his hand so as to wrap his arm around John's shoulder.

"Glad you liked it," Sherlock said. John felt his smile against his skin.

"Everyone liked it."

"Mm, but I'm glad you liked it," Sherlock said raising his head to look at John. John pulled back slightly to look in his eyes.

"I loved it," John said his eyes taking in every detail of Sherlock's face, "I loved every moment of it, and my eyes didn't miss a single moment."

John could see Sherlock process the words, and his eyes turned soft around the edges, his fingers brushed at the nape of his neck before settling back on John's shoulder. They spent a moment with their own thoughts, and John started their earlier slow circle.

John held Sherlock's hand securely against his chest, squeezed it, and brought it to his lips brushing the knuckles tenderly with a kiss. He kept his eyes on Sherlock all the time. And Sherlock had his eyes on their clasped hands, he breathed in through his slightly parted lips, and pulled their hands towards him so the back of John's hand came in contact with his lips. He pressed a firm kiss closing his eyes, and held it there.

A moment later, John rose on his toes and pressed his lips to Sherlock's cheek. He felt him lean in to the kiss. John brought their joined hands with the pocket watch between their chests, and pulled Sherlock closer with the arm around his waist, if it was even possible, he wanted him as close as possible.

"Can we have this, Sherlock?" John said drawing his head back a little. "What I've felt all this time for you, I’m not wrong in believing that you feel the same for me, am I? Because I believe it, I want to believe it, but I want you to say it in your own words, Sherlock. One no from you, and I assure you, I'll back off."

Sherlock's eyes were filled with tears even as he smiled, ruefully, and placed a hand at the back of John's head tenderly.

"John," Sherlock said taking a deep breath, "How can you doubt what you believe? You are always right. You should know that by now, you must know?" He brushed his fingers through John's hair.

"Yes, John, we can have this. We both needed time, and I've known for some time now that if there is one thing we both cannot do without it is each other. We need each other, John."

He rested his hand on the back of John's neck, looking squarely in the eyes, and said, "Or more importantly, I might as well say it now, I need _you_. Now, and ever." John felt something inside him, like a door to the past, come to a close, once and for all. And he knew he was never going to question that closure, because he realised he had been waiting for a closure without even knowing he needed it. He wasn’t going to looking through it in future, never again.

“And I you. Now, and ever,” John said, solemn in his words and in his voice. Sherlock’s eyes flitted between John’s as he fought to keep the tears threatening to roll out. He blinked twice, assuring they stayed in there, and John felt his own eyes sting as he watched it happen. His heart ached and he could not wait anymore.

“I love you,” John said in a hushed voice and then more clearly, “I’ve loved you for so long, Sherlock.”

He brought his lips to Sherlock’s and paused with a hairline gap between them, looking for Sherlock to acquiesce. Sherlock nodded once minutely, and pressed forward. They kept their lips pressed together for few heartbeats, John willed his heart to slow its rapid beatings, and he could feel the effort Sherlock was making by breathing in slowly through his nose to force his heart to slow down.

John waited till he felt Sherlock’s strain leave his body, and then kissed his bottom lip in tender presses. Sherlock remained still with his eyes closed and lips parted to allow John to kiss them. John opened his eyes partially to see Sherlock’s closed eyelids flutter without actually opening, he closed his own eyes again, and kissed his mouth softly.

Sherlock hesitantly kissed back, as if checking he was doing it right, and then John brought his lips to a slow halt to allow Sherlock to return the kisses. Sherlock tightened his arm around John’s shoulder. John felt himself lose all other senses as he let his lips to be sucked in between fuller lips and released in turn.

“Is this okay, John? You are smiling,” Sherlock said in a hushed breath, and John opened his eyes to find Sherlock’s dark wide eyes searching his own, he carefully traced the tip of his nose along Sherlock’s before kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, it is. Everything is.”

John brought their lips back together. Sound of their mingled breathing filled the silent air. Standing there under the burst of flowers, they smiled against each other’s lips. John could not remember the actual wedded couple to have utilized this floor as well as they were right now. Sherlock sighed contently, smiling, and rested his head back on John’s shoulder, holding John closely all the while. John squeezed his own arm lightly in return.

“I love you too, John,” Sherlock said turning to press the words against John’s neck, and then moved his lips to John’s temple, “I always have.” John smiled and turned to press his lips to Sherlock’s neck in acknowledgement. Sherlock then dropped his head back to his shoulder.

John began to sway them lightly on the spot as he breathed in Sherlock’s scent. He caressed his left thumb in circles on the back of Sherlock’s hand on his chest. He looked out, over Sherlock’s shoulder, across the beautifully lit garden and night. He could feel and hear the pocket watch’s faint ticking through Sherlock’s fingers. He could feel their hearts beating together in time, and the moment melding itself with the ticking.

 _Our moment has neither rushed nor dragged_ , John thought, _it has come and synced in right when it was time. ___

And John wished to cherish the pocket watch and the time it bound them in, this and every moment with his Best Man.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) Please leave a comment if you like it, I'd love to know your feelings about it :))
> 
> I'd a mood board to go with the wedding decorations described.


End file.
